


Can I Not Have Five Minutes Of Peace?

by Archer973



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Coitus Interruptus, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archer973/pseuds/Archer973
Summary: Five times the Shelbys interrupted Tommy and Grace, and one time they didn't.Or, the Shelbys have the worst timing and Tommy is too old for this nonsense.OR, Tommy and Grace can't keep it in their pants
Relationships: Grace Burgess/Tommy Shelby
Comments: 18
Kudos: 156





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work assumes that there is a good deal more time between Grace and Tommy becoming intimate and the revelation of her police connection. This is mostly just Tommy being annoyed that his family keeps cockblocking him, with a healthy dose of smut in the second chapter. Hope you enjoy!

**Finn**

Finn Shelby always knew where to find his brothers. Aunt Polly said it was gift, a mark of their Roma heritage, but Finn was more inclined to believe it was because adults seemed to forget that he was young, not deaf, and that his brothers were not the most complicated people to figure out. Arthur was usually somewhere that there was whiskey. John was usually somewhere that there was Arthur. And Tommy... well, Tommy never strayed far from home, not for long at least. He wanted to be close, in case someone needed him.

Though... he had been disappearing more recently. And spending a _lot_ more time at the Garrison.

But not today. That's where Finn was coming from, sent by Arthur to give Tommy the heads up that Joey Regio was back in town and making noise about starting something. It wasn't a matter of life and death, but Arthur still wanted Tommy to know, and so Finn had gleefully taken the proffered sip of beer as payment and set out to find his elder brother.

No one on the street looked twice at him as he darted between carriages and around pedestrians with nimble, well-practiced steps. He hesitated for a moment at the intersection where the road leading to the garage branched off, but then decided against it. There was no reason Tommy would be with the car. Best to check the offices first.

Then men working the floor nodded to him when he came in, but then quickly turned their attention back to their work. Just because it wasn't race day didn't mean that there wasn't plenty of counting and writing still to be done. Finn returned their nods, but quickly surmised his quarry wasn't here. The door to Tommy's office was open and showed the room to be empty, and the air on the floor was too relaxed for his brother to have been here anyways. People always stood stiffer when Tommy was around, like soldiers on parade.

But hope wasn't lost yet. Making his way to the corner, Finn quickly climbed the rickety set of stairs that led up the family quarters. The door at the top was closed, but that wasn't unusual, especially during the day. Smiling to himself (if he did have a gift, it was telling him good things right now), Finn pushed open the door and stepped into the kitchen.

For a moment, Finn didn't understand what he was seeing. He had found Tommy alright, but his brother wasn't alone.

It took Finn a moment to recognize Grace, for all he could really see of her was her pretty blonde hair. The rest of her face was hidden by Tommy's hand, which was splayed across her cheek as Tommy did something Finn had never seen him do.

He was kissing her. Tommy – his big brother Tommy, who always seemed so focused, so entrenched in work that Arthur always claimed it would take all the dynamite in England to pull him out – was kissing Grace like he was trying to devour her.

Now, Finn might only have been ten, but he had seen plenty of stuff in his lifetime of running messages in these streets. Men weren't usually bothered to give their whores more privacy than a turned corner. And when the whiskey got flowing, his brothers oftentimes forgot that he was tucked away in the corner of the booth, listening to them with avid ears until Aunt Polly came and boxed theirs before bringing him up to bed. So he knew what men and women looked like when they were together, and knew even more happened behind closed doors with the women his brothers chose to take to bed. But this was different.

There was no roughness in Tommy's hands, not like the way the men held the women they bedded on the street. All of the sharp, abrupt movements Finn was so used to seeing from his big brother were gone. Instead he touched Grace gently, like she was one of his prized horses that he loved so much. And Grace... Grace touched him back just as softly.

Maybe that was what surprised Finn the most. No on was gentle with Tommy. People were with Arthur, because he had more bad days than good. People were with John, because he was quiet and had so many little ones to take care of. And people were with Finn, because he was young. But no one was gentle with Tommy.

Realizing that he had been standing there staring at them – and that if Tommy caught him doing it, there was no telling how angry his brother would be – Finn cleared his throat loudly and had the singular pleasure of watching Grace and his brother jump apart like scalded cats.

Tommy's eyes searched wildly for a moment before he caught sight of Finn and then Finn was able to watch his shoulders slump and his alarm morph quickly into something between exasperation and annoyance as he turned to face the youngest Shelby – and placed himself between the boy and Grace in the same move.

“Finn, what the hell are you doing here?” Tommy demanded, and Finn almost rolled his eyes. He lived here too, you know. If Tommy had wanted privacy, he shouldn't have been snogging Grace in the bloody kitchen.

But, Finn knew better than to say what he was really thinking, and so instead got straight to the point, telling Tommy, “Arthur wanted me to tell you that Joey Regio is back in town, and he's making noise about starting something with you again.”

Tommy frowned, then sighed, his ramrod straight shoulders collapsing inwards a little. Finn saw Grace glance his way, then turn her attention back to Tommy, hesitantly resting one of her hands on Tommy's shoulders, her head tilting slightly to the side. Tommy covered her slim hand with his larger on, and Finn saw his fingers moved at he squeezed Grace's hand.

“Joey Regio's a thick-headed Italian that has taken exception to the fact that I do not let men trash my bars,” Tommy said quietly, answering Grace's unspoken question. He turned his head so that he could glance back at her, and Finn swore that an actual _smile_ crossed his face. “Looks like I'm going to work with you tonight. If Joey's in town, the Garrison will be his first stop.”

“Won't that cause problems, you getting into a fight with an Italian?” Grace asked quietly, and Finn might not have existed at all, for the pair only had eyes for each other, even talking business. Tommy shook his head, and this time Finn could see the smile clear as day on his brother's face.

“Nah,” Tommy assured her, squeezing Grace's hand once again. “Old boys across town are just as sick of Joey as we are. He busted up all their bars first. Besides, I have to keep my best barmaid safe, don't I?”

“I'm your only barmaid,” Grace replied tartly, but she was smiling too, and Finn was pretty sure that if Tommy went any softer, he was going to sink into the floor.

“Exactly,” Tommy replied, lifting Grace's hand off his shoulder so that he could press a kiss to the skin of her wrist. Grace's smile widened, but then her eyes flicked to Finn, and Tommy suddenly remembered his brother was still there, watching them. Clearing his throat, Tommy straightened up and turned to face his brother once more, though he didn't let go of Grace's hand.

“Right, thank you, Finn,” he said, giving his brother a nod and, after digging around in his pocket for a moment, flipping him a shining coin, which Finn caught deftly and immediately stuck in his pocket. “Run along back to Arthur and let him know I got the message, and I'll be there tonight.”

Finn nodded briskly, but he didn't turn to leave. Instead he looked at his brother with all the gravity a ten year old could possess and said, “I eat on that table, y'know.”

Grace made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a gasp, while Tommy just stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. Then his eyebrows drew together and he glowered at Finn.

“And you'll keep eatin' on it,” he snapped, though there was no real bite to his tone, and Finn swore he could see amusement dancing in his brother's normally icy eyes. “Now off with ya, or I'll dunk you in that water barrel like I used to when you were small.”

Finn rolled his eyes, the picture of the put upon youth, but he turned and didn't argue any further, making for the stairs once more. But just as he was about to close the door, Finn glanced back over his shoulder one final time.

Grace and Tommy were intertwined once more, but they weren't kissing this time. Just looking at each other, murmuring quietly. Tommy's eyes were soft, and Finn could see his smile all the way in the hall. Tommy leaned forwards, resting his forehead against Grace's and reaching up to stroke her cheek. Grace mirrored the action, her delicate hand tracing Tommy's face.

It made Finn happy, seeing them like that. Happy that finally, after all this time, someone was being gentle with Tommy.

**John**

If there was one thing that John had learned about his new wife, it was that he understood why the Lee's had been so eager to marry her off. Esme had an appetite for sex that even John himself sometimes had trouble keeping up with, and she had no qualms about making her desires known, no matter how public the venue.

Which is how John Shelby found himself being dragged off the street by his lapels, his wife's hungry mouth nipping and biting at his throat and jaw as she rubbed herself against him like a cat. He replied in kind, because contrary to popular belief, John was not a stupid man, but at the same time he glanced around, looking desperately for some shadowed nook or convenient building. He did _not_ want another lecture from Aunt Polly, nor to have his person abused by whatever she happened to be holding in her hand as she scolded him about proper Shelby behavior.

Thankfully – despite all of his blood rushing south – he recognized where they were and was able to pull Esme quickly down a familiar back alley and out beside the building the housed the Shelby family cars.

“Wanna take me for a ride?” John asked, grinning down at his wife. Esme nodded eagerly, her nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons on his trousers, allowing her to slide her hand in and close it around his pulsing member, making John gasp.

“Ride you until you put a baby in me,” she purred, and John just about spent on the spot. Seizing hold of Esme none too gently, John crushed her to him for a fierce kiss, kicking the door to the garage open as he went.

“Fucking hell – !”

The sound of another man's voice jerked John away from Esme, his hand fumbling frantically for his revolver as he looked wildly for the trespasser. What he saw, however, made him gape like a thirteen year old boy in his first whore house.

Tommy was standing there, pistol pointed straight at John. But that was not what made him stare, for even as he watched Tommy began to lower it the gun, the battle readiness falling out of his body, though not the tension. For Tommy wasn't alone. Pressed between him and the car, there was a woman. For a moment John had a sickening lurch of humiliation in his stomach, thinking for sure it was Lizzie, but just as quickly he realized he couldn't be more wrong.

The hair was the first give away, of course. In the dark, muddied streets of Birmingham, only one woman had hair the color of spun gold, and she certainly wasn't any whore, despite what many claimed. No, Grace was just about as far from Lizzie as you could get, which is why John, for the life of him, could not figure out what she was doing with his brother in this dusty old building.

But then Esme giggled and John suddenly realized he _was_ an idiot. Even if he could be excused for being surprised – after all, when was the last time he had seen Tommy take an interest in a girl? – there was no excuse for being oblivious too.

His normally pressed and put together brother could not have looked more rumpled if he tried. His jacket was gone – though John thought he could see it poking out from behind Grace's shoulders – and his shirt was rucked up, untucked from his pants by eager hands that had done a number on his brother's normally sleek hair as well, mussing it so thoroughly that every end was pointed in a different direction. The collar of Tommy's shirt was open and – John began to grin at this – he could see red love bites across the pale skin of his brother's throat. Grace's clothes were less damning, but there was definitely something off about the fall of her skirts, as if they had been pulled up and then dropped hastily, and her hair was not quite as tame as John usually saw it when she was behind the bar at the Garrison.

“I think,” Esme said brightly, her voice doing nothing to hide her laughter, “that we all had the same idea.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, suddenly realizing he hadn't said a damn word yet, just stood there staring like an idiot. Tommy looked at him balefully, but Grace ducked her head, sliding quickly out from between Tommy and the car.

“I should go,” she murmured, glancing at Tommy, then dropping her eyes back to the floor.

“No, no we can go somewhere else!” John protested, but Grace merely shook her head, glancing up to give him a tight-lipped smile even as she walked rapidly towards the door, hands clasped tightly together.

“My shift starts soon,” she said, though John bloody well knew that the Garrison didn't open for another two hours. But before he could say anything else, Grace was out the door. His gut churning, John turned back to his brother helplessly.

“Tommy, mate, we didn't mean...”

Tommy waved him off, collecting his coat from where John now saw he had draped it over the car door. _To cushion her back_ , John realized, and he felt another twist of guilt in his stomach.

“You couldn't've known,” Tommy assured him, offering his brother a small, tired smile. “If it hadn't been you, it would have been the pigeons.”

“She is... shy?” Esme asked hesitantly, looking at Tommy with soft, questioning eyes. Tommy favored her with another one of his small smiles – _and when had Tommy started smiling so much?_ John suddenly wondered – then nodded.

“Posh girls like her aren't used to tumbling in the shadows with men like me,” he replied ruefully, dusting off his coat and pulling it back on. “It's the way of the world.” Tommy shrugged, then gave them a small, teasing smile. “However, my misfortune is your gain. Try not to let him wreck the car, Esme.” Esme grinned back at her brother-in-law, taking John's hand firmly in her own.

“The only thing he will be wrecking is me,” she promised happily, and Tommy snorted, rolling his eyes indulgently as he made his way passed them, pausing only to clap a hand briefly to John's shoulder. John covered his brother's hand with his own for a moment, then Tommy was walking away and Esme pulling him towards the car that had been a gift from her father, giggling all the while, and John only had a brief moment to hope that Tommy was able to track Grace back down before his attention was _thoroughly_ occupied.

**Polly**

Polly looked at the sheaf of papers in her hand, frowning. The numbers all made sense – and honestly, that was almost the most confusing part – but they weren't written in Arthur's awkward, shaky hand, or even Tommy's cramped, angular scrawl that made Polly's eyes ache every time she looked at it. Who in the blazes was keeping book for them?

Snapping the ledger shut, Polly stood from her place at the kitchen table and marched downstairs. She had heard Tommy's voice not long ago, and doubted he would have left already. A quick sweep of the betting floor showed it to be deserted, but the door to the office was closed, and Polly strode towards it with determination, swinging the door open as soon as she could lay hands on it.

“Thomas, who – oh bloody hell.”

Tommy shot to his feet with the speed of a soldier, but not before Polly had been treated to the sight of her nephew on his knees, his face buried between the thighs of that barmaid from the Garrison. The girl – Grace, Polly thought she remembered her name being – scrambled to cover herself, lurching up from where she had been sitting on the edge of the desk, but Tommy had already seized Polly by the arm and hauled her back out onto the betting floor, slamming the door behind him and blocking his paramour from Polly's view.

“What the hell is it, Polly?” Tommy demanded, glaring at his aunt, but Polly had been matriarch since he was a squalling babe in ill-fitting diapers and his icy anger didn't frighten her one bit.

“That used to be my office, you know,” she said dryly, and Tommy's glower deepened.

“And now it's mine,” he replied sharply, dropping his hand from Polly's arm. “So if you just came to quibble over bloody office space, I'll get back to what I was doing.”

“I _came_ ,” Polly snapped, holding up the ledger so Tommy could see it, “to find out who the hell has been keeping book for us. I guess I know the answer now, though.” Tommy remained stonily silent and Polly rolled her eyes.

“ _Men_ ,” she hissed, slamming the ledger down on the table. “I don't care where you wet your cock, Tommy – as a matter of fact, I'm glad you're finally starting to act like a human being again! – but just because she bends over for you _doesn't_ mean she has any business – !”

“Don't you fucking talk about her like that,” Tommy snarled, and Polly drew up short, her tirade halted by the look on his face. Then she softened, all the anger running out of her.

“Oh Tommy...”

Tommy remained stiff for a few moments, then he deflated as well, his shoulders drooping and all of the fight running out of him. “Look, it's not like that. I took Grace on well before we started – that. She's got a knack for bookkeeping, Pol, she really does. I started her with the Garrison's books, just to ease her in, but she did so well... She came up today to help me start looking over the betting ledgers, see if there was an easier way to keep track of everything.”

Polly looked at him for a moment, then smiled, her eyes dancing. “It would be a lot easier to take you seriously if I couldn't still see her slick on your mouth.”

Tommy froze, then did something Polly had not seen in a long time.

He blushed.

“Yes, well, we, uh, we...”

Polly let him suffer for a moment, then she laughed, completely ignoring the baleful look he gave her.

“Oh Thomas... sometimes I forget how _young_ you are.” Tommy opened his mouth to retort, but Polly raised her hand, stalling his reply. “No, no, that's not a bad thing. The war took too much of your youth. I'm glad to see some of it coming back. Now go on. Go back to your pretty barmaid, before she decides you're not worth the trouble.”

Tommy closed his mouth, then sighed and gave Polly a long-suffering look. “I'll be lucky if she hasn't climbed out of the window in embarrassment. Took me half an hour and the promise of complete privacy to get her to even kiss me, especially after John and Esme caught us in the garage the other day.”

Polly snorted, covering her mouth with her hand to contain her laughter. Tommy shrugged, but there was a gleam in his eye. A spark of mischief she hadn't seen in... oh, _years_. Polly lowered her hand and looked at Tommy softly. “Oh Thomas... you really do have it bad, don't you?”

Tommy looked at her for a moment, then sighed, a small, rueful smile creeping onto his face. “Hard to hide anything from you, Pol.”

“And don't you forget it,” Polly replied tartly, but she was smiling too. “Now go on. Before you have to chase her all the way to Coventry.” Tommy snorted, but his eyes were soft and crinkled with amusement.

 _Soft bugger would actually do it_ , Polly realized, looking at her nephew and seeing everything about him in this new light. _He's head over heels for that girl. Most ambitious man in Birmingham, in love with an Irish barmaid. It's like one of those bloody songs._

But Tommy's shoulders were loose, his eyes soft, and there was an air of contentment about him that Polly had not seen since before the war. And if the only price they had to pay was him and Grace christening every corner of the city with their efforts... well... there were certainly worse things.

**Arthur**

“Grace, I need a bottle of whiskey!”

Several moments passed. Arthur frowned, looking up from his paper.

“Grace!”

Still nothing but silence.

“Where the bloody hell is that girl?” Arthur muttered, closing the paper and shoving himself back from the desk so that he could look into the Garrison's main room. They weren't technically open yet, but Grace had been here when he arrived, going over the books as she did every day. Arthur was almost starting to think she slept here, so permanent a fixture was she. But now his lovely barmaid was no where to be seen.

Getting laboriously to his feet – they really needed a better chair in this bloody office, he wasn't as young as he used to be – Arthur made his way towards the bar, searching the shadowy pub all the while for his wayward employee.

(Though, if he was to be totally honest, she ran more of this place than he did, and everybody knew it.)

But now her normal place behind the bar was empty, as was the table she best liked to sit at to do the accounting and the dusty back room that at the moment held nothing besides a forlorn mop and two broken pitchers. Arthur frowned, true worry beginning to set it. Had someone taken her? Joey Regio hadn't liked Tommy's boot in his arse, but surely even that piggy bastard wouldn't be so bold as to kidnap their barmaid!

Then Arthur heard the muffled thump from the storeroom and realized he was an idiot. Of course that's where Grace was. The woman had a love of inventorying that was truly terrifying, insisting it get done every day before opening _and_ every night after they closed. Relief swelling up in his chest – honestly, Arthur was _terrified_ at the thought of running this place without Grace, to say nothing of what Tommy would do to him if he let their favorite barmaid get kidnapped – Arthur pushed the door to the storeroom open, saying “Grace! Grace, are you – oh.”

Arthur drew up short. Grace was in there, alright, but she wasn't alone.

“Can we bloody help you with something, Arthur?” Tommy demanded, not moving from his place between Grace's legs even as he dropped the pistol that the soldier's reflex in him had whipped up to point at Arthur's head.

Not that he could have moved even if he wanted to. Grace's legs, still ensconced in stockings but flashing tantalizing glimpse of creamy thighs, were wrapped around his hips like a vice. Even a nun could have figured out what they were doing, despite the fact that Grace's rucked up skirts hid all of the pertinent parts from view. Arthur began to grin, taking in Tommy's untucked shirt and wild hair, and the mirroring mess that was Grace's normally meek, contained apparel.

“So this is what we pay you for, eh?” he asked, smirking at Grace, who was looking back at him just as mildly as she always did, as if he hadn't just caught his brother buggering her on a barrel of beer. Tommy began to reply – and by the look on his face, it would not have been a kind one – but Grace beat him to it.

“My shift doesn't start for another half hour,” she told him tartly, raising an eyebrow. “So did you need something, or were you just coming to start the inventory?” Arthur winced, then scowled at Tommy's badly hidden snort of amusement.

“I just wanted to make sure you hadn't been kidnapped or summin',” Arthur replied petulantly, then let his eyes rake over the pair of them in a way that made Tommy scowl. “ _Obviously_ that isn't the case, so instead I'll take a bottle of Brogan.” Tommy glared at him, but Grace just rolled her eyes, the hand that had been on Tommy's shoulder trailing down his arm in what Arthur realized was a soothing gesture.

“Third row back, quarter of the way down,” Grace told Arthur, voice no different than all of the other times she had given him instruction behind the bar. “And make sure you note it in the book!”

Arthur scoffed even as he began backing out the door. “You and that bloody book. Maybe if Tommy gave it to you nice and proper, you'd have other things on your mind that bloody inventory numbers!”

“Haven't had any complaints so far,” Tommy grumbled, and Arthur swore he saw Grace tighten her legs around his brother's hips even as she rolled her eyes at Arthur as he backed all the way out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him as he went.

Arthur stood there for a moment, undecided. Then, he leaned forward and pressed his ear to the door.

“ – run off like a maid when John catches us necking, but Arthur finds us with my cock _literally_ inside you, and you act like this happens every day.” Tommy's voice is half questioning, half amused and Arthur hears Grace giggle in response.

“Maybe you're corrupting me, Mr. Shelby.” Arthur's eyebrows begin to creep towards his hairline. He'd never expected _that_ tone to come out of his buttoned up, no nonsense barmaid. “Besides, Arthur's harmless. All I have to do is pull out the account books and he's running scared.” Tommy chuckled, and any bit of annoyance Arthur might have felt at being called _harmless_ – he's a Shelby too, dammit – melted away at that sound. How long has it been since he heard his brother laugh like that? Since before the war, that was certain.

“Arthur Shelby, if you don't get away from that door you will be making sons with one less testicle.”

Arthur jumped, Grace's voice pitched perfectly for his hearing. He scowled at the door, then called back, “Just making sure my brother was treating you right, darling. And don't think just because he's the boss it gets you out of your shift! On the clock in fifteen minutes, so step to it, Tommy boy!”

Tommy shouted a rather unflattering Roma description of his character (and manhood), making Arthur chuckle. Pushing himself away from the door, Arthur began to _loudly_ rummage through the bottles in the third row. The Brogan was exactly where Grace said it would be, and Arthur picked it up with a grin of satisfaction. This was all he needed. Tommy was welcome to their pretty barmaid. Whiskey never made him do math.

**Ada**

“Tommy? Tommy, are you – oh my.” Ada stopped short, her hand still on the handle of Tommy's door.

“Bloody _hell_ , Ada, did no one ever teach you to knock?!” Tommy demanded, yanking the sheet viciously up around his waist while at the same time trying to angle his body so that Grace was hidden beneath him. Unfortunately, Tommy was wiry, not broad, and Ada could still see a good amount of the other woman's naked torso. That didn't bother her, however, and from the way Grace was giggling, it didn't bother her either, so Ada instead planted her hands on her hips and scowled at her older brother.

“You're the one that's always harping on John to lock his door,” she retorted. “Maybe you should take your own advice!”

“His _front_ door, not his bloody – was there something you needed?” Tommy demanded, doing his best to glare menacingly up at his sister from his prone position sprawled over Grace and failing quite miserably at it. Ada could see Grace biting her lip to stop her smile, but had no such reservations herself. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen her brother look so... young. It was endearing, and Ada made no bones about her amusement.

“I wanted to invite you over for dinner,” she told Tommy primly, as is they were sitting down for lunch in the kitchen, not staring at each other with only one set of clothes between them.

“And this couldn't have bloody waited?” Tommy grumbled, forcing Grace to turn her face to the side lest she lose all semblance of control. Ada rolled her eyes.

“I didn't know you were busy, _obviously_ ,” she retorted, the very picture of a little sister. “I mean, c'mon Tommy, it's not like you've exactly been reeling them in these last few years.”

“Ada!” Tommy looked like he was about two second from jumping up off the bed and grabbing her, and it was only concern for Grace's modesty that kept him in place. Grace, on the other hand, had finally lost the battle with her giggles. Tommy looked down at her balefully, though Ada could see the corner of his lips twitching. “I'm glad this is so amusing to you.”

“And you should come too, Grace,” Ada continued, smiling at the other woman. “All the rest of the family will be there, and it will give you a chance to meet Karl.”

“Oh,” Grace murmured, cheeks beginning to tinge with pink as she glanced at Tommy. “I don't know if that's really appropriate – ”

“Nonsense,” Ada said firmly, cutting off whatever else Grace was going to say with the Shelby stubbornness that not one of her brothers could argue she didn't come by honestly. “Everyone knows you and Tommy are together, and how much you've been helping him, what with all the writing and the bookkeeping and keeping the Garrison from falling down around Arthur's ears. You're important to him, so that means you're important to us. Plus, it's my bloody house, so I can have whoever I want at my table.”

“Well... I mean, if nobody minds...” Grace trailed off, glancing at Tommy again.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at her. “You're not going to get any bloody argument from me. Everything, remember?”

Grace looked at him for a moment, then the most genuine smile Ada had ever seen broke out across her face. Tilting her head up, Grace pressed her lips to Tommy's in a sweet, gentle kiss. Tommy didn't hesitate to reply in kind, the arm he had been using to hold himself up shifting so that he could stroke the ends of Grace's honey-colored hair.

“Aw, you guys are sweet,” Ada said, smiling happily at them. Tommy broke off the kiss and glared at his sister.

“Ada, get the fuck out.”

“I was giving you a compliment!” Ada cried, miffed at her brother's ire. Tommy groaned, dropping his head against Grace's shoulder.

“Woman, I swear to God, if you make me get up, you will _not_ like me very much.”

“Fine!” Ada snapped, though she couldn't stop herself from grinning at Tommy's exasperation. Turning on her heel, she flounced out, Grace's muffled laughter following in her wake.

“Close the bloody goddamn door! Dammit – _Ada_!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Not Even God Himself**

Grace had just put the kettle on when her door flew open. She lunged for her purse, and the gun within it, but pulled up short when she saw who her nighttime visitor was.

“Tommy?” Grace demanded, the adrenaline in her veins making her voice sharper than normal. “What – ?”

Tommy didn't answer her. Turning, he closed the door and threw the lock home with sharp, focused movements, the lines of his body trembling with tension. The fear that had dissipated at the recognition of him quickly swelled back up in Grace's stomach and she shut the stove off hastily.

“Tommy, what's wrong? Are you expecting trouble?”

Still Tommy didn't say anything. Turning once more, he strode across the room and seized Grace in a fierce embrace. Grace's arms went around him automatically, though she was still confused by his strange behavior. She did not get another chance to question him, however, for as soon as Grace was in his arms, Tommy pressed a hard, scorching kiss to her half-parted lips.

It was instinct to kiss him back, to let her eyes fall closed and lean into him, letting Tommy devour her. Fear of mobs and police raids faded away, and leaving only the taste whiskey and smoke and the feel of his desire pressed against her hip.

“I don't care what happens,” Tommy growled, looking at Grace with molten eyes even as he continued to nip and lick at her lips. “The whole bloody host heaven could be walking the streets, twenty feet tall and flaming like comets, with God himself knocking on that door. But we are _not_ getting fucking interrupted again.”

“Thomas Shelby, you _scared_ me,” Grace admonished, though she could not help but laugh at his passionate declaration. “I expected half of the British Army on your heel, the way you crashed in here.”

“Bugger them too,” Tommy replied, but he was smiling now, some of the wildness in him easing at the feel of Grace in his arms. “I don't give a damn about them, the king, Kimber, or even my bloody family right now. I just want you.”

“And I want you,” Grace murmured, her smile soft as she tilted her head up and pressed a long, slow kiss to Tommy's eager lips. Tommy groaned, drinking her in. Then, with an ease at odds with his slim frame, he seized Grace around the waist and picked her bodily up.

Ignoring her yelp of surprise, Tommy made his way quickly to the bed, sitting down on the springy mattress and pulling Grace astride him as he did so. Her skirts, however, complicated the matter and she quickly overbalanced, sending them both sprawling backwards onto the mattress. Tommy took it in stride, refusing to give up his pillaging of her mouth, but Grace panted against his lips, “Clothes, Thomas, generally need to come _off_ first.”

Tommy grumbled, his hand reaching down to begin simply drawing her skirts up, but Grace took hold of it and pulled away just enough so that she could look at him as she said, “I have had quite enough clothed tumbles for the week, Mr. Shelby. The door is locked, the hour is late, and I plan to have you take full advantage of that.”

“Oh you do, do you?” Tommy asked archly, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. Grace nodded, eyes dancing, and Tommy grinned up at her. “Well, I've never been one to deny a lady her wishes, so...”

Holding her tightly, Tommy rolled them over, pinning Grace to the bed beneath him. Grace's laugh turned quickly to a gasp of pleasure as Tommy pressed into the crux of her spread legs, letting her feel his desire plainly even through their clothing.

“This is what you do to me, Grace,” he murmured, rocking gently against her and fanning Grace's desire even higher with the motion. “All bloody day, this is all I could think about. You've turned me into a bloody teenager again, blood going south at the merest thought of you. I swear Arthur was laughin' at me, having to reread the bloody ledger three times over. Didn't dare come to see you at the Garrison, 'cause I knew I was likely to bust the seam of my trousers just _lookin'_ at ya.”

Grace shivered at the heat in his voice, then took hold of his hand and brought it to where her skirts had ridden up around her thigh. Never looking away, she slowly guided Tommy's hand beneath the cotton fabric, trembling at the feel of his calloused fingers on her bare skin. Higher and higher she guided him, until they reached the edge of her undergarments. Grace paused for a moment, then pushed the fabric aside, guiding Tommy's hand to the quivering, wet heat of her sex.

“And this is what you do to me, Thomas Shelby,” Grace replied, her voice catching with pleasure as she pressed Tommy's fingers into the wetness of her desire, the tip of his broad finger slipping inside her and making them both shudder at the feel of it. “The thought of you and you alone. Tommy...”

Grace trailed off, no longer able to hold herself back from kissing him. Tommy met her eagerly, swallowing her gasp as he shifted his hand and sank one finger into her, cupping her sex so that he could cradle her even as he penetrated her. Grace whimpered, grinding down into his hold without shame. The feel of him stroking her from the inside, even as he held her as if she were his most precious treasure...

“Tommy... oh Tommy... I want you, please.” Grace whispered her desires onto his lips even as Tommy continued to kiss her. “We've spent enough time waiting. I want you inside me.” Tommy groaned, breaking off his kiss and pressing his forehead against Grace's as he took a shaky breath.

“I'm trying to be a gentleman, Grace,” he murmured, looking down at her with lust-filled eyes even as he continued his slow ministrations between her legs. “Get you ready.”

Grace almost wanted to laugh, but at the same time she found his statement so incredibly sweet, she kissed him instead.

“Thomas Shelby, I have been ready for you since you walked into this room,” she told him firmly, pressing her dripping sex against his hand as proof of her statement. “So hurry up undress me already.” Tommy let out a huff of laughter, his eyes dancing as he looked down at Grace, bumping her nose gently with his own as he grinned.

“As you wish, darling.”

Withdrawing his hand from between her legs, Tommy stood, pulling Grace upright as well. Grace reached eagerly for his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, quickly joined by his razor-bladed hat and her sweater. Tommy's nimble fingers made quick work of her shirt's buttons, and she replied in kind, biting her lip as each freed fastening revealed more of his wiry soldier's body to her lustful gaze.

She could not stop herself from running her fingers across the skin she bared, skimming the knotted scars and faded ink that told the story of the demons that haunted him. As so often before, Grace's heart ached for the man before her, wishing she could erase the horrors that weighed so heavy on his soul. And yet, in a way she was grateful for the scars. They meant Tommy was a survivor.

“Why must women wear so many bloody layers?” Tommy grumbled as he unlaced the tie of her underskirt, the outer layer of her ensemble having already fallen to his focused attack. Grace laughed, pulled away from her dark contemplations, and reached back, pulling free the laces of her brassiere and letting him slide the whole ensemble off her torso and drop it to join the rest of their clothing. That left them only in their undergarments, and Grace set to work on the ties of Tommy's with growing impatience. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of her throat, then dropped to his knees.

Grace's whole body throbbed as, never breaking eye contact with her, Tommy hooked his fingers into the top the thin fabric shrouding her and pulled it down, taking her stockings with it and leaving her suddenly bare to his heated gaze.

For a moment they simply looked at each other, eyes drinking each other in hungrily. Then Grace reached out and placed her hand gently on Tommy's cheek, drawing him to his feet with the lightest of pressures. She kissed him lightly, hands sliding down his body, tracing across the warm skin of his torso and the trembling muscles beneath until she was at last able to coax the last piece of clothing between them to give up its place on his hips and drop to the floor, leaving him bare beneath her hands.

“Oh Grace,” Tommy murmured, nuzzling her neck as he gathered her close, his sharp edges melting into her curves until there was only a single line of heated skin. “I don't know how I survived without you.” Grace swallowed sharply, the rough honestly of his words making her heart clench in her chest.

“I'm here, Tommy,” she whispered, tightening her arms around him, holding him close. “I'm here with you now.” Tommy nodded, pressing kisses to the tender skin of her throat as he maneuvered them back towards the bed, turning so that once more he could sit down onto the mattress. Only this time when he pulled Grace astride his lap, there were no layers of clothing to keep them apart.

“Tommy...” Grace trailed off, her voice stolen by the feel of his manhood pressed against her quivering center. She shifted, rubbing herself along the warm curve of it, and Tommy groaned, hands tightening almost painfully on Grace's back and making her shiver with pleasure at the strength of his hold.

“Grace, you keep that up and I will spend like a schoolboy,” Tommy warned, his voice rough and shaky with desire, pupils blown wide as he looked up at her. It gave Grace a small thrill, to know that she affected him so. But he was far from the only one so taken by desire, for Grace felt like she was burning, hollowed out and needy without him inside her.

Leaning down, Grace caught Tommy's mouth in a hot, searing kiss, then whispered, “So put your cock inside me then.”

Tommy shivered, the sound of Grace's melodious voice wrapping around that vulgarity sending a bolt of lust straight down his spine. Claiming her lips once more, Tommy slid his hands down until he could wrap them around the flare of her hips. Urging her up onto her knees, he held her steady as he shifted his own hips to let the head of his cock press against her soaking heat.

Together they stayed there for a moment, barely connected and shivering with desire. Then Grace threaded her hands into Tommy's hair, pulling him gently back so that she could look into his eyes as they hovered together.

“I'm with you, Tommy.” The words were so quiet they might have been only a breath of wind, but Tommy felt them in every fiber of his being. Never looking away, Grace slowly sank down onto him, both of them gasping as Tommy's cock slid inside her, filling her as if there had never been any other purpose for it, as if this is what it had been made to do.

Spots inside her that Grace had never even known throbbed with heady pleasure as she seated herself astride Tommy's lap once more, his cock nestled so deep inside her that she knew she would be feeling him for days afterwards. The feeling was overwhelming, but Tommy held her tightly, anchoring her, and Grace let herself sink into the pleasure of their joining.

“I love the feeling of you inside me.” Grace had not meant to let the words slip out, but the way Tommy's arms tightened around her made it worth any embarrassment she might of felt.

“No place I'd rather be, love,” he replied hoarsely, stretching up so that he could kiss her gently, but not before Grace saw the emotions in his eyes.

(Though really, it was his words that had given him away.)

 _Love_. Even though Grace felt a thrill each time he said her name, his accent sharpening and stretching the word in a way that still made it sound new and unique to her ears, this endearment sent her heart fluttering in another way entirely. Because that's what she had seen in his eyes, had seen in them for longer than she even cared to admit. Love.

And she knew that her heart, as it always seemed to do these days, matched his.

“Tommy...” Grace murmured, breaking their kiss so that she could look at him again, look into those beautiful blue-grey eyes that reminded her so of the churning Atlantic. “Make love to me?”

Tommy looked at her for a moment, then let out a shuddering breath, his arms tightening around her as if he were afraid she would suddenly disappear. Grace held him back just as fiercely. Nothing mattered but this moment. Nothing mattered but the man in her arms.

“Oh Grace...” Tommy breathed, dropping his head so that he could press a kiss to the tender skin over her pulse. “Always.”

And then he began to move.

His arms wrapped tight around Grace's back, Tommy rolled his hips, rocking into her in a way that made Grace see stars. He repeated the motion again and again, encouraging Grace to move with him, to ride astride him like he were one of the horses he so prized. Where any other man would have pressed her down onto her back, Tommy held her close, much like he had done their first night together. The intimacy of it, of feeling him sliding so deep inside her while at the same time looking into his eyes and the unabashed adoration there... Grace should have shied away, but instead she held Tommy tighter, letting the feeling build higher and higher inside her, stoked by every press of his cock and murmur of pleasure.

“Tommy...” Grace gasped, though whether as a warning or a benediction she did not know, then the pleasure burst inside her and she was clenching around him with a cry, taking him as deep as he could go as she milked him.

Tommy never looked away, watching her pleasure with rapture. Then, just as the last shivers were running through Grace's body, he surged up into her, hitting her spot of pleasure and ripping a cry from her chest as the sudden spike of heat sent her cascading down into pleasure once more. Grace clung to him, body unconsciously riding the waves of ecstasy, and Tommy swore, hips losing their rhythm as he followed her over the edge, burying himself to the hilt and spending himself inside her.

The warmth of his seed spilling into her made Grace gasp in pleasure, her body still clenching weakly around him as she ground down into Tommy's lap, ensuring he was nestled as far inside her as he could go. Tommy groaned, burying his face against her neck, his hips making abortive movements, unable to get any closer than he already was but still making Grace shiver and clutch at him. Unthinking, she wound her legs around Tommy's waist, anchoring herself to him and his still stiff cock inside her.

Idly Grace knew she should be abashed at her wanton, shameless behavior, but as she sat there, filled with the warmth of Tommy's seed and the endearments he was whispering against her neck, Grace couldn't find itself within her to care. Let the whole world see her desire for him, for this man who others called a beast, but who held her so tenderly. She had spent her whole life wrapped in frigid anger, her heart shattered by the loss of her family.

But no longer.

Tommy did not hear the shovels against the wall. And Grace felt her heart beating once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, I do not know how early 1900s underwear works, I just tried to wing it off of what I saw in the show. That being said, I hope y'all enjoyed this! I was very sad when I realized there is very little sexy times written for this pairing, so me being me I decided to remedy that. Would love to hear what y'all thought, and thank you so much for reading!


End file.
